


Alone

by Mousieta



Category: K.A.R.D (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 13:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mousieta/pseuds/Mousieta
Summary: Matthew wanders the streets of Seoul contemplating the future path he's sent himself down.





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet written on my blog for the prompt: BM + Alone

Matthew woke with a start, blinking in the dim blue haze filtering in from the windows. He scrunched his face and reached for his phone, palm landing instead on a wet bit of blanket. It had been a heavy sleep. Shuddering he pulled back and tried again. Eventually he found his phone and rolled onto his back as he pulled up the member’s group chat.  

Taehyung had apparently snuck away for a night at home. That explained the silence in the small dorm they shared. The girls were in the studio recording vocals and hadn’t messaged in hours so there was little chance he would be needed. He had a whole night to himself. 

He stood and shuffled to the kitchen. It felt strange, he was almost never home alone. Rummaging through the cabinets he contemplated Ramen, or Mac and Cheese, or just some dry cereal. Instead, he found himself scratching his side as he shoved his feet into his sneakers, dropped his wallet and keys into his pocket and headed out into Seoul. 

The night was just getting going, the sun’s haze fading, she sky shifting to shades indigo and the moon dancing behind lazy clouds. All of that obscured, however, by glowing neon and flashing LED. He’d grown up on the streets of LA, urban living was no mystery and yet Seoul’s beauty and charm were different. Less familiar. And yet, he thought as he wandered without purpose, no longer foreign. 

Thinking back, Matthew remembered himself as the young boy fresh off the plane, slack-jawed and goggle-eyed and completely out his depths all those years ago. His heart was still in SoCal but a small home in his chest had grown around this city with it’s Korean-English mishmash shouting in riotous color from the sides of buildings, the sound of street bikes zooming too and fro with deliveries, and the drivers. Ok maybe not those maniacs, he reconsidered, as he dodged across a street when he  _ should _ have had the right of way. 

On a whim, he went left. He wasn’t too farm from the dorm but most things usually took him right. A door to a restaurant opened as he passed and the smell of grilled pork washed over him accompanied by raucous singing. He smiled as he dodged an energetic pair of guys on their way out, already flushed with alcohol as they shouted for round two. 

“Fighting!” One shouted at him, leaning heavily on his companion.

“Fighting!” Matthew shouted back, raising his fist in salute and breaking into a loud laugh.

“Hay! Don’t be so tall, next time,” the shouter said, as he took in the foot Matthew had on him.

“I won’t,” he promised, laughing again and turning to continue walking. He took a couple steps then paused, looking back, making sure the pair were ok as they stumbled off together. He waited until a Taxi stopped by them.  

His Korean had improved over the years. He actually understood most of the babble he caught in snatches as he walked. It wasn’t so much the language that had tripped him up, it was the slang. He got the hang of it now. 

He passed several food stands -  _ pojangmacha,  _ he told himself - before stopping at one only because the ajumma behind the register reminded him of his mother. 

“Ajumma, TTeokbokki and soju!” he said as he sat at a little blue, plastic table. 

“Yes,” she shouted at him. 

When she brought his food, she set down two plates. He looked at her with wide eyes. “You’re so big, you need it,” she said. He smiled and nodded, reaching greedily for the chopsticks. 

He was pretty sure she laughed when he finally stopped shoveling and pushed back his chair, both plates empty. The soju, however, he nursed as he watched the city pass by. A momentary blip flitted through his mind. There maybe would be a day he wouldn’t be able to do this, walk a public street just another no-body, remarkable for only his height. 

Maybe.

It was a long shot. Maybe not. That would be cool too, he told himself. 

When the bottle was empty he walked to the ajumma and settled the bill, leaving her a little extra. Just cuz. She looked like his mom. 

Stepping out of the tent, he decided to turn left again.


End file.
